A Mountain of Crumbs and Utter Pointlessness
Seriously? 83,427 cookies? Someone in Pittsburgh thought that was a worthwhile endeavor? Lets just pause for a moment and really digest that number. Eighty-three thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven individual baked goods destined to… what? Sit on tables? Be distributed amongst people who probably already have enough sugar in their lives? Become a monument to human overachievement and frankly, a colossal waste of flour?
Im not saying baking isn’t lovely. I genuinely appreciate a well-made snickerdoodle as much as the next person. But dedicating that much effort, that many ingredients, that much time to break a record for sheer cookie quantity? It feels less like celebrating community and more like a desperate cry for attention disguised in sprinkles.
Imagine the cleanup! The crumbs! The potential ant infestation! All just so someone can say they baked more cookies than somebody else. I picture the bakers, exhausted, covered in powdered sugar, muttering about rising times and oven temperatures while I’m over here questioning all of existence.
And for what? A fleeting moment of internet fame? A certificate? Lets be honest, in a week, nobody will remember this mountain of cookies. They’ll just have moved on to the next absurd attempt at claiming some sort of record, likely involving something equally pointless and excessive. Just… bake a few cookies for your neighbors. It’s far more rewarding.
